


Hm

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Collars, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Leashes, Lingerie, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 10:54:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15289974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis brings his sub to dinner.





	Hm

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Noctis didn’t exactly _want_ to spend his evening at the Citadel, but he understand that appearances must be kept. And his father must be appeased. Ignis passed on the message, crystal clear: if Noctis wants to keep his apartment and independence, he _will_ behave. He’ll present as a decent prince, dom, and son. All in one blow.

He walks through the palace’s towering halls with his head held high, boots loud across the polished tiles, aware that almost every pair of eyes turns to look at him. Or rather, at his charge. Noctis twines the leash tighter around his fingers and ignores the stares. He has business to attend to, and if he shows up with a colossal smirk or any show of jealousy, his father won’t be pleased. And then he might have to sit through another lecture after, when he very much wants to spend the night doing _something else_.

That something follows him through the tall doors of the dining room when the servants open it up for him, bowing and gesturing inside. Noctis can hear the footsteps faltering behind him, but he gives the leash a light tug, and his sub quickly catches up. Though Noctis himself is immune to the grandeur, he supposes he can understand—the dining room _is_ incredibly ostentatious. The enormous windows reach from floor to ceiling, and the ceiling itself is so high above that most of the ornate detail is swallowed up in shadows. Giant floral arrangements line the pillars on either side, reflecting the elaborate tile patterns in their glossy sides. The entire skyline of Insomnia is visible outside, silhouetted in the dark purple sky, dotted here and there with stars and the shimmer of the Walls. Noctis skims over all of that, focusing instead on his father’s face.

His father dons a mild expression of surprise, then quickly covers it up and chides, “You’re late.”

“Sorry,” Noctis grunts. He could provide a lie—blame the traffic or something—but the truth is much too fun to deny. “I was busy getting my new sub ready.”

His father frowns but says nothing—there’s nothing to say. His father asked to meet his new sub, to conduct a formal dinner, and Noctis followed to the letter. And, as Regis must clearly see, a sub as beautifully done up as Prompto simply can’t be rushed. 

Unable to resist, Noctis glances back, and Prompto looks just as scrumptious as he did at the apartment—standing rigidly at attention but head subserviently lowered. His trim body is dressed only in black lingerie: an expensive, one-piece set that covers him from crotch to throat in delicate lacework. Black piping circles his waist and hides what lies below, but his pink nipples are just barely visible, and his limbs are almost entirely exposed. A few diamonds have been sewn into his lone wristband to make it match his lavish collar. His yellow hair is brushed to perfection, his freckled cheeks sweetly flushed, his blue eyes dark and lowered. He looks utterly _delicious_ , and Noctis couldn’t be prouder.

When Noctis moves for the chair across from his father, Prompto obediently falls into step, and he lowers to his hands and knees, just as they practiced. Regis lifts a brow as Prompto crawls beneath the table, coming to settle between Noctis’ legs, tucked out of view. That’s probably for the best. As much as Noctis wanted to show off his prize, his father doesn’t need _too_ long a look. Regis says nothing as the first two servants file in with their meal—salads and bread biscuits for appetizers. 

Regis finally asks, “This is Prompto Argentum, I take it?”

“Yup.”

For once, Regis doesn’t correct his language. “And he was your friend in high school, I understand.”

“And college,” Noctis adds, if his private lessons could even be considered that. He _wanted_ Prompto the whole time, with a hot, burning fever that only intensified the longer they stayed friends. The first time Prompto asked for his collar—moaning and sobbing the desperate plea in bed—Noctis was ecstatic. He didn’t think twice about the fact that Prompto’s a _commoner_. He didn’t care what his father would say. He looks up now, catching his father’s eye, and just _dares_ his father to order otherwise.

Regis simply regards Noctis carefully in return. Noctis breaks the look first, instead taking a biscuit to offer beneath the table. Prompto sucks in a breath and eats it out of his hand, blushing bright red with thickly dilated pupils. They’ve barely even started, but Noctis has to fight down a grin. Prompto swallows every last crumb and licks Noctis’ fingers afterwards, even when all the remnants are long gone.

Noctis rewards him by petting through his hair. Prompto almost moans—Noctis can see it on his face—but he catches himself just in time. Noctis has to force himself to look away. Prompto’s just too _tempting_ , and Noctis is convinced the council will understand that.

As for just his father, the two of them eat in conspicuous silence for a while. Then Regis finally sets his fork down and sighs, “That’s a very old tradition, Noctis, having your sub kneel during dinner.”

Noctis knows. It was one of the few things he paid attention to in his history lesson. He tells his father, “Yes. But Prompto’s eager to show that he can be a fitting sub to royalty, even if he was born a commoner.” Noctis shifts his foot while he talks, dragging it around Prompto’s knee and up Prompto’s thigh, then pressing his heel hard into Prompto’s crotch. In Noctis’ peripherals, he watches Prompto bite his bottom lip and arch forward, before both hands come up to cover his open mouth. The poor thing is almost shaking. Noctis can feel just how _eager_ Prompto really is. The fact that he expressed a sizeable interest in exhibitionism certainly helps. But Noctis doesn’t offer that particular piece of information. 

He merely watches his father’s indulgent nod. Regis returns to eating, and Prompto ducks forward to bury his face in Noctis’ lap, stifling a wet moan across Noctis’ thighs. Noctis idly pets his hair with one hand and continues eating with the other, not daring to feed Prompto anymore—putting things in his mouth right now would only make things worse.

The dinner carries on, and Noctis contents himself with the knowledge that no matter how dull and long it seems, at least he’s got a spectacular night afterwards to look forward to.


End file.
